WOODWINDS BLOWING (4th album) by Pilpil Music

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Eight memories for woodwind quintet: about the train ride to the beach every summer, a story about a cow who wanted to learn to write to become famous, a glass window inside a chapel, about the land’s changes in September, a different poppy that calls out, a changing woman, near dinnertime in summer, a relentless pilgrim who travels the Camino de Santiago

You can listen to the album for free in this web page or you can buy tracks & sheet scores for 9€, click on: https://payhip.com/b/AgdO8

A green train chugs along,
From city to coast, its journey long,
Thirty kilometers of tracks to roam,
From inland hills to the seaside foam.
Passengers board with beach-bound glee,
Excited chatter and children’s glee,
As the train snakes through a sunny wood,
The view outside is simply good.
A cow who longed to write,
to share her stories bright,
with a world that didn’t know
the tales within her soul.
She’d watch the humans scribble,
their pens and pencils dribble,
words and phrases forming
to tell of love and storming.
The ancient church stands tall and proud,
Its walls so thick, its stones endowed
With centuries of history and lore,
It stands as a testament to something more.
A stained-glass window catches the light,
A rainbow of colors, a beautiful sight,
The sunbeams streaming through the panes,
Dancing on the worn-out stones and stains.
September comes, summer’s end draws near
Colors shift, and autumn’s hues appear
The sun still shines, but with a cooler breeze
A hint of change is felt among the trees
The sky seems bluer, the clouds more white
As summer fades into the waning light
The fields and meadows take on a golden glow
As the harvest season begins to show
A poppy blue, rare and true,
Stands amidst a field of red,
A sight that is both strange and new,
A wonder that fills my head.
A flower of blue, so bold and bright,
Against the green it stands in might,
A symbol of hope in a sea of red,
A mystery that fills me with dread.
Marijo, a woman of 20 years old,
Has a heart of gold, or so she’s told,
But her temper flares up like a raging storm,
Leaving others to feel quite forlorn.
She’s impulsive and unpredictable too,
With mood swings that come out of the blue,
One moment she’s happy, the next she’s mad,
It’s hard to know which Marijo we’ll have.
I’m here, waiting for you
As the time ticks slowly by
It’s been so long since we last met
And I can’t help but wonder why
The sky turns dark, the stars appear
And still I wait alone
My heart beats fast with every step
That echoes like a stone
An tireless pilgrim walks the Camino,
Each autumn he begins his journey,
He doesn’t pray nor is he religious,
But the path and its people bring him glory.
He starts his trek from the Pyrenees,
And walks for days through the dusty plains,
He’s joined by others on this pilgrimage,
Sharing tales and laughter to ease the pains.

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